Why adoption?

I get an immense amount of sympathy. Usually from people that I've just met. Usually, these people make assumptions.

When I hear the words: "Can I ask you a personal question?" coming out of the mouth of someone I met a few minutes ago, I cringe. I cringe because I immediately know that this person is going to ask an extremely personal question. An irrelevant question and that has nothing to do with them.

And then it comes: "Did you struggle to fall pregnant?"

The reality is, no. We never tried to fall pregnant. Adoption was our first choice. I never had to deal with infertility issues. I'm lucky. But there are so many women out there who weren't as lucky as me. Women who tried everything to be able to carry a miracle inside their bodies. Women who have grieved losses that some of us will never understand. To some of these women, adoption wasn't their first choice. It was a last resort to have a family.

It doesn't matter why someone chose adoption. It doesn't take away from the fact that a new family was brought together through this act. Adoption is a gift that God gave so that people can understand how He adopted us through Christ. How we became fully His children.

Did you know that in many countries you are allowed to write biological children out of your will, but not adopted children? Adopted children become so much your own that you can't distance yourself from them from a legal perspective.

I believe that adoption, even with all the loss and heartache attached, is beautiful. Adopting a child is just as special as starting a family any other way. I often say that I could not have given birth to a child more my own that little Levi. He is so much more than I could ever have dreamt of. He is fully and completely mine. When I look into his eyes, I don't see my own reflected in them, but I see love. I see a love that is stronger than biology because it was a choice.

The meeting

On 9 September 2015, a beautiful little boy was born in Johannesburg. He was immediately taken to an adoption home where he was assigned to a Gogo to give him individual attention and love.

This little boy's mom had made the decision before he was born. He was to be placed for adoption. However, the social workers of Joburg Child Welfare worked with the mom for a few months to ensure that she was making the best decision for her and her boy.

Eventually, she signed over her parental rights. This was the best decision she knew to make for her boy. She still had two months to change her mind and revoke the adoption order.

She never did.

On a sunny day in April 2016, my phone rang and I recognised the number of the social worker assigned to our case. There was a boy available, would we like to meet him. That was easily the scariest and most exciting moment of my life. Two days later, after not being able to sleep, my husband and I drove silently to the adoption home. The little conversation that we made on the drive just confirmed both of our nervousness. Questions like: "What if this tiny human didn't like us?" Irrational emotions and fears, but emotions and fears nonetheless.



The adoption home has a protocol for meeting possible placements. The family was to wait in the sitting room for the social worker, who would get the baby and introduce him to the family. This protocol did not happen that morning. When we arrived, there was a lot of commotion going on. We introduced ourselves and a care worker came and handed the baby over to me. I looked at him, and he looked at me as if equally confused and overwhelmed. I asked the caseworker what his name was. She answered: "Levi," as she made her way back to the other babies.

The adoption home did not know that that was the name we had chosen. How could that be his name?

I stopped another care worker and asked the same question. Same answer. I was truly overwhelmed with emotion.

Our social worker arrived, having been kept at the office with an emergency. She was clearly upset that we had already met baby Levi, but nothing was to be done, and we carried on with the formalities. Paperwork had to be done. I asked her what the baby's name was. "Levaughn," she smiles.

A name that was so close to the one we had chosen, long before he was even born. He already responded to Levi, since the accents that the care workers pronounced his name with, was so similar.

"Do you accept him?" Our social worker asked this bizarre question.

"Of course!" We had finally met our little boy!